


The Knife Thrower's Revenge

by myfireheart



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Elorcan, Empire of Storms Spoilers, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfireheart/pseuds/myfireheart
Summary: A pregnant Elide attends a feast with others from the court while Lorcan is away. She recognizes some of the performers.  Lorcan returns while the feast is going on, and is unhappy for various reasons. He proceeds to lose it.





	The Knife Thrower's Revenge

Elide Lochan did not particularly enjoy pregnancy. It wasn’t so much the extra nine pounds, although her limp was more pronounced; it was the fussiness of every male she came into contact with. That is when Lorcan would allow them close enough. 

The only reason she was walking unescorted through the castle now was because Aedion, as acting general, had called upon Lorcan’s superior tracking abilities on a mission described as “of utmost importance.” Although, she suspected this mission had been thought up by Aelin after Lorcan had nearly attacked a male servant refilling Elide’s wine. 

There was to be a small feast today in honor of a festival of some minor god. Small troupes of performers had been invited to perform in the main hall after being carefully screened by the King himself, who would barely leave Aelin’s side except for safety-securing ventures. Elide was expected to attend, as the Lady of Perranth. It was a small blessing that Lorcan was absent as he would probably have ended up killing some poor knife thrower or fire-breather that looked at her the wrong way. The thought of performances brought back her memories of their brief stunt in the traveling carnival, and Lorcan’s chest glistening with sweat. She had seen that chest glistening plenty of times since then.

Elide slipped through a servant door located close to the head of the room. On formal occasions like this, a herald announced everyone coming in the main door, something that Ren’s grandfather had insisted on. Apparently it gave the other members of the court a sense of importance. The sniveling aristocrats could rot as far as she cared. Even after all these years, Elide still abhorred unnecessary attention.

Although she made sure her entrance was as quiet as any servants, heads still turned in her direction. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the crippled Lady carrying a bastard’s child. The gossip about Lorcan annoyed her more than the rest of it. He had worked so hard to leave the past behind, and still all the ignorant members of the court chose to conveniently forget their own ancestors. She could not wait for the summer months when she could return to her home in the green countryside. With her head raised, she proceeded to the dais where Lady Lysandra and Evangeline were already seated.

“You better hope he doesn’t come back and see you sitting up here without a guard.” Lysandra smirked as she leaned over the blank spaces left for the King and Queen to clasp Elide’s shoulder in greeting. 

Elide scowled. “Why do I need a guard when I have you?” Lysandra’s laugh tinkled like shattered glass, drawing the eyes of any male within hearing distance. Any reply Elide may have had was interrupted by the entrance of the Queen and King. Aelin smiled sweetly as she was announced, a warning that any of her friends would be remiss to ignore. She glided up to head table, teeth bared at the bejeweled bodies situated around the lower tables, Rowan at her heels. When she met Elide’s gaze her expression softened and her eyes flicked to her swollen stomach. Aelin sank into her simple throne with a smirk and a sigh. Elide saw the whispers of the pain of old wounds in her too-tight smile, and the frown on Rowan’s face. Every victory came with great sacrifice. 

“And how is the little warrior today? Still trying to fight his way out?” Aelin leaned over Rowan to be heard.

Elide chuckled, “Fearsome as ever.” 

When Aelin and Rowan had come to visit Elide in her private chambers a few days before, the babe had been kicking and pushing so much that Elide had been bedridden. Lorcan had been hovering at her side while the royals took turns pressing their hands against her stomach to feel the kicks. Aelin had laughed in delight, but Rowan had made such a horrendous face that Lorcan snarled and threatened to kick them both out. The queen had just chuckled again and said that Rowan could already sense what a great fighter he would be. Before she turned away though, Elide had seen the flash of jealousy in Aelin’s eyes that she would never give voice to. 

Aelin’s blue-gold eyes sparkled, “Well then, shall we get the entertainment started so no one stares at me while I eat?” Rowan let out a delicate noise that could be described as nothing but a snort while Aelin stood up and called the room to attention.

“Thank you for attending this small gathering, in honor of…” her eyes quickly flicked to the side, searching for a hint of what this small holiday was. Lysandra shrugged, and she smoothly continued, “the sacrifices everyone has made this year. Without further ado, let the performances and feasting begin!”

Hearing the cue, the performers entered in a blaze of fire as the fire-breathers released a small inferno in honor of the queens powers. Lysandra took advantage of the initial smattering of applause to make a rude noise. “You make us attend a celebration, but you don’t even know what it’s for?”

“It’s something to appease the nobles,” Aelin snorted. “Did you think I wouldn’t make you sit through it with me?” Elide smiled at their teasing and turned her attention to the acrobats weaving through the many assembled tables, her hand resting on her stomach. Her gaze slid over the crowd of rich men and women entranced by simple tricks. A group of men and some women circled a dark haired beauty as she juggled little balls. Elide silently rolled her eyes as their entranced stares that focused lower than the woman’s swiftly moving hands.

On the other side of the room, dainty applause erupted as a strongman broke a log with his bare hands. Elide’s gaze slid over and she felt her heart sink into her chest. She recognized that dark beard and those meaty hands, although years had passed. Her eyes flicked back to the dark-haired juggler and her the pieces fit together in her head. Nik and Ombriel were here.

It appeared Nik had been upgraded from security to performer, with Ombriel putting her agility skills to better use. The two had given up her and Lorcan to the Ilken what felt like centuries ago. The betrayal still stung if she allowed herself to feel the truth. She had thought that she had made some friendships, however shaky, during their travels. If those two were here, then Molly and the others must be as well. Elide’s quick glance at Rowan surveying the proceedings confirmed that these performers were expected.

She looked back over the crowd and recognized how both their positions had elevated, but in such different ways. And then she looked back down in her lap and felt anger. Anger with such force and strength she had felt only a handful of times in her life. The thought that these people would betray other to rabid beasts for extra coin caused her to burn inside, such that she wondered if this was how Aelin felt when she reached into her powers. The thought that the coin they gained from their betrayal contributed to their rise in popularity, so they were now famous enough to perform for the queen. But Elide pushed the flames back down and prayed to Anneith for patience and peace. Their lives should mean nothing to her now. She was the Lady of Perranth and they were just performers. Doing something, saying anything, now would only cause a scene and would not change the past. And then another prayer flew to her lips, that Lorcan would be delayed until later that night. If he returned to see them here, he would try to kill them.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lorcan stormed for the great hall, leaving the servants to scatter out of his way like rats. She was at the feast without a guard. Without him. His hand twitched to impale something. He knew that this little mission had been a minor punishment from the queen for almost snapping that wine-pourers neck. He knew that each one had to be thoroughly screened and known by the King and General themselves before being allowed near the head table. Especially after an incident involving poison and one of the Bitch Queen’s old friends. But the little runt had been looking down his wife’s dress. Elide had playfully smacked his shoulder when he told her that, saying there wasn’t much to look at. That wasn’t true anymore, however, as her breasts had swollen deliciously in accordance with her stomach. 

He would have liked to see those breasts bare, and was fully expecting to when he returned from the pointless hunt through the thawing north for former Adarlan supporters. Aedion and his scouts could have found them on their own, albeit in a few more days time, but he had to trek through the cold for four days. Although he had spent time in much worse conditions, he had never before had the knowledge that a warm bed and arms were waiting for him to return. Instead, when he burst into his room he saw a banked fire and pulled up blankets. He had slammed the first servant he saw against the wall, demanding answers as to where his mate was. Learning that she was at a feast, when she should be resting. The others knew that she should be resting too. She was in a fragile state, and walking was more painful for her, especially when he wasn’t there to help support her bad leg.

Lorcan veered around the last corner, marching straight for the closed doors. The herald balked in the middle of brushing off his immaculate uniform. The footmen on either side swung in the doors gracefully, conditioned to such fae-male behavior, while the herald rushed to make it in before Lorcan.

“Lord Lorcan Lochan of Perranth,” the herald gasped loudly as Lorcan shoved by, his eyes scanning across the room, taking in the court members gawking and sensing no immediate threat. Without missing a step his eyes focused on the table above all others. There she was. Elide appeared unharmed and Lorcan allowed himself the first deep breath in five days. Her eyes flicked to his briefly before again focusing on her lap, her cheeks and neck stained red. But not from his arrival. No, judging by the unique red color she had been in a state of agitation for some time. He paused, reassessing his surroundings. There was some threat that he did not see at first. He flared his nose, scenting even as he spiraled down into his dark power. He saw his mates eyes snap to his in alarm, her eyes inadvertently darting to a corner of the room before focusing back on him. A sepulchral breeze ran through the hall, ceasing any conversation that had not already stopped from his abrupt entrance. He turned towards this source that had so agitated his wife, reaching the killing calm. His eyes fixated on Nik. 

Lorcan almost couldn’t believe the luck that had brought this never-forgotten prey to his doorstep. One of the ones who had betrayed him and Elide, resulting in unnecessary death, and the stripping of whatever little trust Elide had held onto after her time in Morath. He heard her voice in the background, but couldn’t discern the words as he stalked towards the bearded man, a knife in his hand where before there was none. He was two steps away when a dark-haired head obstructed the view of his prey and small, firm hands were planted on his chest. His gaze slid down to meet the nearly black, slitted eyes of his wife. Lorcan’s arm reached out to push him behind her while he continued forward when she grabbed his arm and placed his fisted hand on her swollen belly. His fist instantly relaxed, as his palm cupped their child resting within her. 

Elide grabbed his chin and lifted his eyes from where they had focused on their child. “They are not worth it,” she whispered to him. His hand tightened on the knife, but looking at the stubborn set of her jaw he knew this was not a fight he could win. Grunting wordlessly, he sheathed the knife and turned his back completely on the performer, herding Elide ahead of him back towards the main table.

The only thing holding Rowan down was the queen’s hand on his thigh. “Old friends?” Aelin tried to hide her smirk. The only answer Elide bothered with was a scowl as she shuffled towards her chair next to the King. 

A stone-faced Lorcan pulled the chair out for her before she could get to it. “The performers are gone directly after the feast. They are not allowed to stay on castle grounds.” He gazed directly at Rowan during this statement. The King’s only response was a slow nod. 

With Elide safely seated and secured, Lorcan settled into a brood. The festivities gradually resumed around them, but his gaze rotated between the members of the carnival troupe as they stumbled through their routines under his gaze. He remained fixated, not touching his food, until his wife’s hand ran up his thigh as she whispered she was ready to go to bed in his ear. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

In the early hours of the morning, Lorcan carefully snuck back into their room. His mate lay naked and tangled in the bed sheets, sated from his earlier ministrations. Laying down the knife, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and crept to his side of the bed. 

“Is it done?” Elide’s gaze fixed on his, wide-awake. He had understood the promise in his wife’s earlier words. That the bearded man had not been worth the notoriety and immortality he would have been afforded if he had been killed by a Lord in front of the rest of the court. He had done it quietly in the woods miles away, where they had tried to hide from him. They didn’t have time to scream when he came. If only he had the luxury to have savored the experience, but it had to look like a robbery gone wrong. Not the slow torture he would have preferred. Even though it was done cleanly, he washed thoroughly from the cold pump outside. He did not want this part of his life in his marriage bed. 

He slowly let out a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he slid under the covers. “Yes.” He breathed into his mate’s hair, wrapping is arms around her so that their child rested between them. He felt a tension in her release, one that she had been holding onto for years, since an unplanned boat ride.

“Good.” Lorcan held Elide as she fell asleep, marveling at the world he now held in his arms, and the future they had ahead of them.


End file.
